


Earned It

by alex4968



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mutual pining / teasing, Stripper Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex4968/pseuds/alex4968
Summary: There’s something so uniquely captivating to being on stage - to being the center of attention. Louis has always craved it, always craved the feeling of being desired by all only to have his own pick at the end of the night.He knows people come to see him specifically - has been told time and time again - and maybe that’s why he’s so in love with what he does. He knows he’s wanted and he loves being able to manipulate the attention of the men and women sitting in the crowd around him.





	Earned It

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely and unapologetically self indulgent! Thanks to everyone in my groupchats that egg me on enough to create fics like this
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> [Here are the songs Louis strips to](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZvH7rDyXoVeumw2SsyID6CTMY47MIDio)

The lights are low throughout the club, with just the soft glow of dim purple lights, illuminating the top of the bar. It sets the scene exactly how Louis likes it, bordering somewhat on edgy yet still with the hint of anticipation in the air. He steps onto the stage, his heavy steps the only sound in the room, echoing and bouncing off of each of the walls with a strong  _ click  _ noise. As soon as he sits down on the chair placed in the center of the stage for him, the music starts and the lights ever so slowly begin to brighten enough so he can be seen again. 

_ Earned It  _ by the Weeknd starts quickly throughout the club, and Louis immediately begins his routine. It’s easy at this point, feeling the rhythm in his body as he just lets himself move to it. 

With an arm over his head, he snaps his fingers to the beat of the music once, twice, three times before he moves his hips, sticks his arse out towards the crowd as he throws his head back, sending strands of perfectly tamed hair out of place just for a moment. Each of his hands swivel back to the beat of the music to rest against his hips instead, his back still towards the crowd, before he brings his hands above his head, snaps again, and turns. 

Five inch heels with lace running up his calves are on his feet, along with a pair of black booty shorts, left unbuttoned. His favorite football jersey is on his top, the shoulders cut so that it hangs off of his frame, rather than being anything like a real shirt. 

He moves his hips, movements attuned to the rhythmic pattern of the song as he brings himself back to a sitting position, lifting his legs and spreading them. He kicks them slowly, upper body moving to the rhythm before he bends forward, chest pressed against his thighs and spreads his legs twice more. Pointing out to the crowd on each  _ you, you, you, you,  _ he smiles, taking in the entire crowd for the first time that evening. 

It’s nearly a full house, with an empty bar but full tables and booths all in front of him, every eye on him, watching his movements closely. He moves his neck in a circle once, leaning back against the chair before running his hands down his thighs as he moves to his knees on the floor. 

Someone dressed in full black to be less noticeable by the crowd takes his chair, then, helping set up for the rest of his routine. He plants his hands on the ground, moving his body in a wave like motion as he brings himself to lay on his side, still facing the crowd. 

Hooking an arm around the pole, he lifts himself up, climbs so his feet can’t touch the ground as he spins around. A few whistles comes from the crowd as he does, spinning a few times before he plants himself back on the ground. 

He usually removes one piece of clothing per song excluding his first song, to build the anticipation. He’s found, in his own experience, that making a crowd wait for exactly what they want only brings more tips, makes them more excited for what’s guaranteed to come. But for the evening he’s had to cut his routine short, down to only three songs. 

He’s got a longer list for personals than he has in over a month now, and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. He knows he’s good at what he does, and it’s only a plus that he enjoys it as much as he does. 

Sometimes, though, he can’t help but feel his addiction to the stage. He loves watching everyone with their eyes on him, looking and wanting everything while he chooses whether or not to give it. But - personal requests pay much more than the crowd does, anyway. 

His jersey gets tossed over his shoulder once it’s off, leaving the bare, tan expanse of his chest exposed as he continues to move. The end of the song comes just as he planned it, as he hooks an arm around the pole and spins twice more, before falling to his knees once more with his head ever so slightly bowed. 

There’s something so uniquely captivating to being on stage - to being the center of attention. Louis has always craved it, always craved the feeling of being desired by all only to have his own pick at the end of the night. 

He tosses the material away as he stands still for a moment and the lights shut off all at once when the song ends. It’s dramatic - just the way he likes it. Taking a second to catch his breath, he also tosses the shirt through the curtain behind him so it’s no longer visible, just as the lights start to fade in once again. 

He knows people come to see him specifically - has been told time and time again - and maybe that’s why he’s so in love with what he does. He knows he’s wanted and he loves being able to manipulate the attention of the men and women sitting in the crowd around him. 

His favorite remix of  _ Down on Me  _ starts through the speakers about twenty seconds later, and he brings himself back to his feet, strutting across the stage for the beginning, hands on his hips. He bends over, exaggeratedly, as he leans down to pick up a few of the bills that now litter the stage and tucks them into the band of the exposed waist line of his panties. It’s all for show, but he loves it. 

As soon as it picks up, he struts himself down the stairs that lead to the stage and makes his way to a man sitting in the crowd, someone he’s never seen before, and gives him a very short preview of what a personal slot would look like, before he sends a wink at a few of the other men. They’re staring, since he’s closer now, before he gets back up on the stage, arse first. 

He sits on the edge for a moment, spreading his legs and laying back. 

He moves himself to be standing again, turning his back to the crowd before he squats, shaking his arse as he does, then places his hands against the firm flesh there. All before he hooks an arm around his pole and twists himself upside down, holding himself up with one leg as the pole begins to spin ever so slowly. 

He mouths the words to the chorus,  _ I like the way you grind with that booty on me  _ as he dances, moving his hands up the skin on his torso. He slides down on the ground, going into the closest to a split as he can, brings his hands above his head and leans forward. He’s always been flexible in ways he probably shouldn’t be, but he’s long since started taking advantage of it. 

Bringing himself back to standing, he twists around on the pole a few more times as the song picks up yet again, twisting upside down as he spins, arse tucked out so everyone can see. 

He slides down while he’s still upside down, ever so slowly, until his hands are back down on the ground and kicks one leg out, slowly folding himself over until he’s got his balance on the leg and moves himself so he flips over. It’s one of his favorite moves, both because it gets him great tips from the crotch looks, and because it was the hardest to master. 

He stands, arm poised against a cocked hip as the song comes to an end. 

The lights don’t fade this time, but rude as  _ Rude Boy  _ fills the speakers, he starts shaking his arse all over again, squatting down and getting back down to his knees. 

He keeps his back facing the crowd as he moves this time, keeping the entire focus on the shape of his figure as he sways, moving his legs to twist himself around. As soon as he’s facing the crowd yet again, he bends back, lifting himself with just the strength of his legs and his abs. 

This is one of his favorite songs to perform to, because of the easy rhythm that both makes it easy to move to without too much of a predetermined routine, and how simple it makes walking out into the crowd. 

With about a minute and forty five seconds left in the song, he struts back onto the floor, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, where he moves into one of his favorite routines, putting his arms behind his head a few times as he sways his body left to right. 

One of his favorite clients is sitting near the front as he always does, legs spread wide with his confidence, sitting in one of the chairs without a table. Louis is quick to pick him this time, more to put on a show than for money. He places a hand on his knee before he squats down again, swinging his arse right in front of the man. He teases his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, before strutting away once again. 

That’s all he gets before he moves back to the stage to finish the song. 

He sways his body, fingers going to ghost over his nipples before his hands run down his stomach. His thumbs slide into the waistband of his little shorts as he sways his hips yet again, turning a few times as he pulls the material down his legs. 

He’s deliberately slow with the way he exposes himself, keeping himself facing the front as he moves. As soon as the material is gone, he twists back to his pole, swinging himself around one last time. 

Red lace panties are all that cover his arse, with his cock tucked neatly away from prying eyes of his audience. He runs his thumbs through the band of the material, swaying his hips as he does, before turning and bending down, legs straight as he touches the ground. Slow on the uptake, he can see the wide eyes. In bold, black print on his arse, the panties say  _ DADDY,  _ and it’s his favorite role to play. 

There are the nights where he tries his best to look powerful, to convince the crowd that he’s the one in charge. But then there are nights like these, where most of his routines are spent on his knees, swiveling his body to the rhythm to show his submissive side. 

He finishes his routine for the night with a last sexy strut across the stage, ending in a pose with his fingers snapped, held just above his shoulders, when the lights go out yet again with the end of the song. 

  
  
  


H has always been his favorite client. He’s likely one of the only men he’s ever met in the club that he could see himself actually going home with one day. Sometimes he can’t think of what exactly it is that draws him to H so closely, but he always remembers each time they have one of their sessions. He’s alluring in ways Louis doesn’t think he’s ever experienced. The way he talks slowly, authoritatively, puts Louis right into the place he wants to be in with just his words alone. 

It’s intoxicating. 

Smiling down at the request form, he tells his manager where he’ll be before he shrugs on a large flannel shirt, only fastening one button. It’s a similar look that he matches every time he sees H - but it seems to keep him coming back, so he has no reason to change it. 

Opening the door to the little private room, he’s greeted with H with a drink in his hand, playing idly on his phone before tucking it away when he hears the door close. 

“Hi, Daddy.” 

“You kept me waiting, love.” 

“I’m so sorry, daddy.” He says with a little pout, jutting out his bottom lip. “How can I make it up to you?” 

“Could let me ask you out, this time?” Harry asks, a teasing smirk on his face. It’s one of the same questions he asks every time - just because they both know exactly what Louis will say. 

“If we were anywhere but here… I’d love you to ask me out.” He winks. H is the only client he’s ever let banter with him like this - just because he thinks H might actually enjoy it just as much as he does. There’s something about the banter leading to the sexual part of all of this that seems to drive him more crazy than anything else. 

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something to please me.” H says with a small smirk, leaning back against his chair as he looks at Louis with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Of course, daddy. That’s what I do best.” 

Louis takes that as his queue to strut over to the little speaker across the room, plugging in his iPod with all of his performance songs on it before playing  _ Bad Habit  _ by the Kooks. 

As the sound fills the room he starts walking back towards H, slow and sensual as he moves his body. But he knows well enough that H hasn’t paid to see him dance in front of him - otherwise he would have just stayed at the stage.

He puts one leg between H’s spread thighs, ghosting a grind over his thigh. He’s not really allowed to touch a client just as a client isn’t really allowed to touch him - but he knows well enough that he’s already bent the rules for H more times than he should have. So he’s sly in the way he brings himself closer, places his hands on H’s shoulders and grinds their crotches together, softly. 

After having done this with H once a week, every week, for the last year, he can’t help but feel almost comfortable with him. He knows H knows the rules, and he knows H won’t tell if he breaks them just a tiny bit. So, after a moment, he lifts his leg again, lifting it over both of his legs and planting himself right in H’s lap. His arse is pressed right against the hardness of his crotch, now, and it’s always more pleasant than he can describe to know he’s effecting a man in that way. He undoes the button of his flannel, letting it fall down his shoulder. It leaves him in just his black panties, and he watches as Harry licks his lips. 

He gets a slightly tighter grip on H’s shoulders as he lifts himself just a bit, moving to shake his arse between moving his body to grind back down. There’s a hint of the desperation in H’s eyes, now, taking place of the normally serious and concentrated look that he usually sees there. 

With a wink, he moves so he’s facing away from the other man, then bends so his arse is nearly right against his clothed cock once again. He squats down, touches the floor, and then comes back up, grabbing on to H’s thighs to lift himself back up onto his lap once again, backwards this time. 

Still using his hands on his thighs, he pushes himself up, shaking his arse to the beat of the song. It’s intoxicating, to be someone’s full source of attention. He’s always loved it - loved everything about being so captivating that someone would pay to see him. 

He moves himself down, so that his hands are down on the ground, now, and he moves his body in a wave like motion so H has a perfect view of his arse. He keeps that up for a few seconds, before sitting on H’s left thigh, his legs crossed, and an innocent little smile on his face. 

“Did I make it up to you, daddy?”

“Of course, love.” H says, running his fingers through Louis’ hair. He’s never let a client touch him before H, but something is just so different about him. He wants to let him touch him, in more ways than just the innocent ways. 

But, he knows the rules. 

Unless they were to meet somewhere that isn’t here - they can’t see each other. As well as the exchange of information between client and dancer while at the club is just as against the rules. He’s not entirely ready to lose his job over a crush, anyway. 

“See you next week.” He says with a smile, winking as he tosses the flannel over his shoulder and walks out the door of the private room. 

  
  


He’s sick enough the next week that he actually ends up calling off work. 

Only working two nights a week is more than enough to both support him and help pay for a majority of his schooling, but taking two days off is more of a hit financially than he would have thought it would have been. 

So, he’s decided to go into public to study - in an attempt to distract himself from the looming thoughts of worrying about not being able to make a payment on his loans or pay his rent. He knows it’s irrational, the way he’s thinking, but he’s never had to call off, so he can’t help it. He has plenty saved up and even more in his checking account, but the thoughts don’t stop. 

He sips on his tea as he flips a page in his music theory textbook. 

“Blue?” Louis’ head turns faster than it has in a long time at the sound of a familiar voice. A feeling he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced fills his stomach as he meets eyes with the man now standing beside him. He’s wearing a dark grey plaid suit, with bees all along it. Louis’ never seen him in a proper suit before, always just in his street clothes, or slacks with a button up, and he almost can’t believe how incredible he looks when he’s dressed up. 

“Oh, um. Hello, hi, H.” Sitting in the very back of his favorite campus coffee shop, textbook splayed out in front of him, was the very last place he ever expected to see a client. He stares at the man, eyes wide, unsure of exactly what he’s meant to do in this situation. Yet, he thinks, if he were to run into a client outside of work, he’s more than pleased that it’s H - and not someone else. H is really one of the only clients he thinks he actually enjoys being around, rather than just being there and doing a job for money. 

“Hi,” He says, a soft smile on his face. “Am I bothering you? If I am please do just tell me to go and we can pretend this never happened at all, no problem.”

“No, not a bother at all. I have always been the one to say you were welcome to chat me up if we were anywhere else, right?” H smiles, dimples deep in his cheeks. 

“Right. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, sure.” He closes his book and stacks all four of them neatly in a pile, clearing the table. “So, if we’re hanging out outside of the club, does this mean I get to know your name now?” Another smile breaks out across H’s face, making Louis smile in return. Something about the other man’s smile is infectious in ways Louis’ never experienced in another person. 

“Harry. Not very creative with my nicknames. And yours?”

“I’m Louis. Also not very creative with my nicknames, it really just rhymed with Lou, so…”  That makes H -  _ Harry -  _ laugh just a bit, which makes Louis smile again. “So, what’s brought you all the way to campus?” 

“I was actually asked to be a guest speaker for an event for some music production students. Just got finished with the first lecture for that, so figured I’d come get a cuppa.” 

“Wait… Music production? What for?”

“Er, nothing too special, really. Just some industry stuff.” He assumes Harry doesn’t want to divulge into his personal life at their first meeting, and he understands enough to respect that. 

“Ah, that’s cool.”

“Anyway, can I uh, buy you another cup of tea or something? If I’m overstepping, please do just tell me to bugger off, but I’m quite sure we aren’t at the club anymore, and if that means I’m allowed to ask you out, I would like to.” 

“I’d like that.” Louis smiles. His cup was nearly empty anyway, and he’d told himself that once it was he would just make his way back to his flat, but the idea of sitting with Harry and having a decent time sounds much better. He goes to stand with Harry while he orders his own drink and a second tea for Louis, ignoring the slightly strange look he gets from the cashier. 

They sit back down at the same table, and it’s almost strange how it doesn’t feel awkward. Louis has a tendency to make every first date he has extremely and unnecessarily awkward, albeit not on purpose. But Harry almost seems immune to it. 

“So, what are you studying?” 

“Dance and music production.” Harry smiles a bit. 

“Music production? What do you want to do with that?”

“Realistically, or more in my dreams type things?”

“Mm, both.” 

“Realistically, I’ll probably intern at some music firm for the next five years making less money than I want to be, only to maybe one day get a promotion to make barely any money, still. But that’s alright, cause I really do just enjoy the idea of watching music come together in the way it seems to do in studios. In my dreams, of course, I’d like to open my own label. But… well… I suppose that’s just a dream for a reason, yeah?” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Louis shrugs. “What do you do, then?” 

“Music production.” Louis is stunned for a moment, and then they both laugh just a bit. 

“Well if that isn’t something, I don’t know what is.” 

“I did assume you were involved with something dancing related, like a dance major, when I first watched you, though. You’re very talented, even if what you’re doing right now probably doesn’t completely show your talents.”

“I do try and put in as much proper technique into it as I can.” He says with a laugh. 

“So, tell me a bit about you, then?” Harry asks, then, and it’s almost strange how he can feel so comfortable beside the other man when they still practically know nothing about one another. They’ve been seeing each other at the club for over a year now - since the week after Louis had turned eighteen - and it’s almost a strange realization. 

“Well… I’m a second year. Live with my best mate. Got a massive family. We have a cat, called Sam.” 

“Sam?”

“She looks pink in the sunlight, kinda? And Zayn wanted to call her Salmon, which… we did end up naming her. But then I realized like... Cats eat fish. So. Sam.” That makes Harry laugh, little dimples forming at the sides of his cheeks. 

“I’ve got a cat called dusty. She’s just quite an odd grey colour, though. So… dusty.”

“Glad to know we’ve both named our cats after something trivial, then.” 

Before long, they’ve both finished their drinks, and Louis’ thoughts have started running back to the idea of getting Harry hot and desperate like he can do so easily each time they see each other in the club. 

“So….” He starts, making Harry smile as he quirks an eyebrow,  “Please do tell me if  _ I’m _ overstepping now, but er, my flatmate isn’t home? We could… go watch a movie?” He knows he sounds like an idiotic teenager with the way he phrases it, but he’s thought about getting Harry’s cock in his arse for longer than he would like to admit, and having the chance in front of him is harder to pass up than he’d like for it to be. 

“A movie.” Harry repeats, laughing a bit. “Sure. I’d love to go back to your flat with you…. To ‘watch a movie.’”

“Great.” He gathers up his textbooks and shoves them into his bag before standing. “Follow me, then.” 

  


It’s a short walk from campus to his flat, and they make just a bit of small talk as they walk. It’s clear Harry still isn’t entirely keen on sharing too many personal details, so Louis doesn’t share much of his own, either. Mostly for the purpose of not wanting Harry to feel obligated. 

But as soon as they’re through the door of his flat, Harry pins him against the wall and leans in, so close that their noses are nearly touching. “Am I reading this right? You  _ do  _ want to fuck me, right?”

“Fuck, yes, of course I do.”

“Wonderful.” Harry says before he kisses him. Louis’ fast in grabbing his hand and leading him back to his own bedroom, where they end up falling back against the bed. 

Harry kisses in a way Louis has never been kissed. His lips are so soft and so gentle yet the force behind it makes stars pop behind his eyelids. He’s breathless before long, pulling back and letting Harry strip his top away. He’s more than half hard already, uncomfortable in his jeans, and he absolutely cannot wait to get Harry’s cock in him. 

“Can’t wait to take you apart.” Harry says, voice lower than it usually is, and it nearly makes Louis dizzy with the desire. 

“Fuck, daddy.” He moans out as Harry’s massive hand cups his hardened dick through his trousers. 

“You’re really into that, then?” He asks, eyebrow quirked. “Always thought you did enjoy yourself, maybe even just as much as I do.” Harry teases, making Louis’ cheeks heat up. 

“Always have to do your personal last, cause I get hard.” 

“Mm, have to finish yourself off after you’ve gotten me all riled up?” Harry’s pupils are blown wide with the lust, and Louis imagines his are much the same. He nearly feels fucked out already and they’ve barely started. “Show me.” 

That’s the command that makes Louis’ heart beat faster. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Show me how you like to fuck yourself on your fingers.” Harry is so vulgar, so confident with the way pure fifth spills from his mouth, and it only manages to turn Louis on even more. He tugs his trousers off, followed by his pants, before he sits back against the headboard. Reaching into the bedside drawer, he’s quick to grab lube and pour a bit on his palm before wrapping his hand around his now fully hard cock. 

He moans at the first feeling of it, but then he takes his hand away and bunches up so he’s laying on his back. Harry is watching him with an expression Louis can’t entirely read as he stands and tugs off his own trousers and pants. The expression doesn’t change as Louis presses his pointer finger into his own arse in one swift movement. He hasn’t done this in long enough that the stretch of even just one finger isn’t unpleasant, but he can tell that even that is just a bit of a stretch. “‘S been a while.” He admits as Harry watches him. 

“Take your time, make sure you open yourself up really well for me.” Knowing Harry doesn’t want to rush him makes him feel even better than he thought he would, but it’s less time than he’d thought it would take before he’s comfortable and slides a second finger in beside the first. Crooking his fingers, he moans as he finds his prostate and rubs against it just a few times, writhing on the bed as he does. Something about the pleasure of the physical feeling and the feeling of Harry just watching him so strongly has him feeling better than he ever has in bed. 

Harry is still looking at him, pupils blown wide enough that just the slightest veil of green surrounds his iris, all the rest covered by black, and that only manages to make him feel even better. 

He adds a third finger within a few more minutes, fucking himself harder, faster, with more desperation, now. 

He wants Harry to fuck him - and he knows this is all leading to that - but he’s never been the most patient person, and sometimes he’s not entirely sure if he can wait another moment. 

Harry grabs his wrist after he’s moaning loudly from the drag against his prostate and pulls his fingers out of himself, only to quickly replace them with his own. 

He seems to have been watching closely enough that he could tell where Louis was rubbing at his own prostate, and that’s exactly where his fingers go first, relentlessly rubbing against that bundle of nerves inside of him. 

He’s breathing fast at that point, heart pounding as the pleasure courses through his entire body. 

Then, Harry leans down and wraps his mouth around his cock. 

He shouts at the feeling of it, gripping the sheets hard below him as he scrambles to hold on to something, to anything. 

“Oh, oh fuck. Daddy, gonna come.” He moans out, toes curling as white forms behind his eyelids. Harry looks up at him through his eyelashes before he brings a hand up to squeeze at the base of Louis’ cock, staving off his orgasm. It rids of the feeling that he’s close on the edge, but the pleasure of it all is still overwhelming in a way he’s never experienced. 

“You won’t come until I say you can.” 

He clutches the bedsheet below himself, biting his lip as Harry finally pulls his fingers from his arse. Catching his breath, he feels like he finally has a moment to calm down and make sure he isn’t going to come any time soon. At least not until Harry says he can. 

“Do you have condoms?”

“Drawer.” He says, pointing in the direction of the drawer he’d gotten the lube from. Watching as Harry slides the condom over his own cock, with his lip still between his teeth, the anticipation of it all builds. And barely a moment later, Harry is pressing the head of his cock right against Louis’ hole, teasing with gentle presses. 

It’s driving him mad. 

“Fuck - Harry, please, please. Daddy, need your cock.” He whines out after a moment, pride out the window as the desperation to be full again drives through him. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Harry smirks before he bottoms out in one, quick thrust, making Louis moan loudly. He wants to come so badly, and with each drag of Harry’s cock inside of him, he only feels closer. 

The edge is so close and he’s more than ready to topple over it, in every sense that he can. 

“Please, oh  _ fuck,  _ please let me come.”

“With me.” Harry says, nipping at Louis’ jaw. “Now.” He comes on command, entirely effortlessly, and he can feel as Harry spills into the condom, too. 

Barely a few moments later, Harry is pulling out, tying the condom off and tossing it into the bin. 

  


They lay together like that, starkers, for nearly an hour before Harry seems to realize the time and gets up. “Should probably get dressed, huh?” 

“Mm, yeah. Maybe.” 

“How old are you anyway?” Harry asks, pulling his pants on. 

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen?!” Harry squaks, something like shock in his tone. “Jesus, I’m sorry. You’re just very young.”

“Oh, shut up. There’s no way you’re even a day over twenty five.”

“I actually turn thirty this year.” It doesn’t bother Louis, so he just smiles. 

“Does me being young bother you?”

“No. Does me being old bother you?”

“Oh, you’re not old, shut up.” He says with a laugh. “No, your age doesn’t bother me.”

“Good.” He does up three buttons on his shirt before he pulls his trousers on. “I suppose I best be off.”

“When can I see you again?” 

“Would it be odd if I still came in on my saturday nights?”

“No, not at all. S’pose I could do it for free at yours or mine any time though.” 

“Might have to take you up on that some time. Thank you for inviting me over, Louis. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Any time.” He says, smiling. “See you soon, daddy.” He winks, just for emphasis. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come visit me on tumblr](http://creamcoffeelou.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Harry's suit](https://www.gucci.com/uk/en_gb/pr/men/mens-ready-to-wear/mens-suits/monaco-bees-wool-check-suit-p-473218Z591E1202)
> 
> Also, if you are feeling generous and want to support your local fanfic author:  
> 
> 
> [ ](https://ko-fi.com/A237HRB)


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